


Tony's Flour Child

by iTony



Series: Tony Snark [6]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad Parenting, Bjorns, Gen, Humor, Parent Tony Stark, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Roombas, Snarky Tony, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony-centric, nick fury is amused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:36:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7005418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iTony/pseuds/iTony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Sequel to Prank Wars.)  Nick Fury and the rest of the Avengers convince Tony to take care of a bag of flour for a week as if it's a child.  Tony is not the nurturing type.  Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tony's Flour Child

**Monday**

The Avengers assembled in Conference Room 3 at nine-thirty on Monday at Fury’s direction.  Each of them was carrying a thin manila envelope.  

“Good morning, Avengers,” said Nick Fury sternly, standing at the front of the room.

“Good morning Director Fury,” they all chimed in reply.

“I have some positive news regarding your last mission.  You did a good job out there, and at this time, we’re calling the conflict partially resolved, although there still some major infrastructure damage, and the bear is still missing.”

Steve and Bruce casually high-fived and Thor nodded approvingly.

“Onto more important things,” continued Fury.  “In light of last week’s…  _ problems _ …”  He fixed his eye on Tony.  Tony stared back, blank-faced, from behind a pair of sunglasses.  “...we have decided to implement a new immersive training exercise, starting today, with the intention of promoting teamwork and responsibility.”

Natasha protested loudly.  “You’re _ kidding _ me!  Tony fucked up and so now all of us have to do more work?”

“This is not just,” agreed Thor.  “All of us work well together and respect Steve’s inability to adapt to his new life.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m the  _ only _ one here who get pranked by Tony because he doesn’t understand modern culture,” said Steve sarcastically.

“At least  _ I _ remember to rewind video tapes,” replied Thor.

“The only tapes I don’t rewind are the ones no one watches!  You can’t seriously tell me anyone else was going to watch _ The Secret of Nimh 2: Timmy to the Rescue _ ?”

Thor looked shocked that Steve would even suggest such a thing.  “A secret  _ and _ a rescue?  Does the title not intrigue you?”

Nick Fury slammed a hand on the table to stop the bickering.  “Both of you!  Quiet!  We’re doing the damned exercise!”

He reached under the table and set a bag of flour on it.  Everyone stared at it.  It was about ten pounds and the white paper was stamped with a picture of some wheat.

“...is it a bomb?”  asked Natasha after a moment.  “Do we disarm it?” 

“No.  This is your new love child.  Starting today, you six are responsible for caring for this bag of flour like it was your own flesh and blood,” said Fury, pushing the bag toward them. 

It fell over.

“No way,” said Clint.

“Yes way,” said Fury.

“Sir, with all due respect, you can’t seriously expect us to babysit a bag of flour all week?” asked Steve.

“I can and I do,” said Fury.  “You’re going to name this bag of flour and you’re going to take care of it.  On Friday we’re going to see how well you did.  And just to make sure you don’t stuff it into the fridge all week, we put a tracker in the bag, and the bag has been sealed.  We’ll be monitoring the situation closely.”

Everyone groaned.

“Sigvald!” exclaimed Thor.

“Yeah,  _ Sigvald! _ ” agreed Tony.  “That’s Swedish for  _ fuck _ , right?”

Thor looked hurt.  “It’s Norse, and it is a name.  For our child.”

“Oh.  Well, that’s a stupid name.  Let’s call it Victor,” said Tony.

“Why do you assume the flour is a boy?” asked Natasha.  

“Tony should take first shift since he’s the one who’s most responsible for us having a bag of flour,” said Bruce.

Everyone murmured their agreement.  Tony looked enraged.  “I don’t want to take care of the flour!”

“From now on you will refer to the flour by its name,” said Fury, crossing his arms.

“ _ Victoria _ ,” said Natasha.

“Okay, fine, I don’t want to take care of Victoria.  She’s not mine.  This is exactly why I had a vasectomy, so I wouldn’t have to deal with this crap!” protested Tony.

“All in favor of Tony taking first shift?” asked Steve.  Everyone but Tony raised their hand.  Even Director Fury put a hand in the air.

“I want a recount,” said Tony, crossing his arms.

“All in favor of Tony taking care of the flour exclusively since this is completely his fault?” asked Natasha, throwing her hand in the air.  Steve and Clint followed suit.  Thor’s hand rose.  With an apologetic look at Tony, Bruce raised his hand meekly in the air.

Tony pulled off his sunglasses and flung them on the table.  “Et tu, Brutus?”

“I’m sorry, Tony, but…”  Bruce took a deep breath.  “It’s  _ your  _ flour child.”

“Fury, they can’t just saddle me with the bag of flour all week, can they?” asked Tony.  “Doesn’t that go against the… the _ teamwork _ rules?”

“Nope,” said Fury.  “Everyone voted, and everyone agreed.  I’d say this team building exercise is off to a good start.”

“And what if I decide I don’t care if the flour dies?  Are you going to sic flour services on me?  Call a flour abuse hotline?  Put the flour in a flour orphanage?” asked Tony, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I’m going to pull you from the next mission,” said Fury, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh no, _ less work _ !  Say it ain’t so!” said Tony mockingly, opening his thin manila envelope.  “I sure would hate to miss…”  His face paled as he read over the folder’s contents.  “...no way,” he breathed.  “The Adult Video News Awards?”

“Mm-hm.”

“But… but that’s actually cool.”

“We have reason to suspect that there’s an undercover Hydra agent attending and we need someone to go undercover,” said Fury.  “The awards are being held in Las Vegas.  There’s a picture of the suspected mole in your file.  She’s the redhead.”

Tony pulled out a picture from the file and moaned.  “You’re not serious.”

“I’m serious,” said Fury

“Are those real?”

“Yes,” said Fury.

Tony placed the picture back in his file, closed it delicately, and tented his fingers.  “Well.  Fuck,” he said.

“Language,” warned Steve.

“Not in front of the flour,” hissed Bruce.

“Gentlemen,” announced Tony, standing. “Lady,” he added, nodding to Natasha, “I shall accept your challenge and care for this flour as if my life depended on it.”  He strutted out of the room, head held high.  Everyone watched him go.

Then they watched him return.  

“I forgot Victoria,” he mumbled, picking up the bag of flour.  Tucking it under his arm, he left the room a second time.     
  


**Tuesday**

Clint walked into the break room early to find Tony, Thor, and Bruce clustered around the coffee table, sitting on the worn burgundy couch and the mismatched arm chairs, playing cards.  The bag of flour was sitting on the floor, and Tony was using it as a foot rest.

“Tony!” reprimanded Clint.  “You need to be more careful with Victoria.”

“It’s just a bag of flour, Clint,” said Tony, playing a card.

“Wait, you’ve been holding the flour down on the floor this whole time?” gasped Bruce.  “ _ Tony _ !”

“For shame, Anthony.  I hereby curse you with this  _ ‘skip’ _ card.”  Thor placed a card on the table and Tony groaned.

“I saw Director Fury in the hall and if he sees you treating the flour like this, he’ll pull you from the next mission,” warned Clint.

With a sigh of defeat, Tony picked up the flour and began bouncing it absent-mindedly on his knee.  “There, happy?  I’m dandling baking supplies like a psychopath now.”

“You’re going to drop it,” warned Clint.

“It’s fine,” said Tony dismissively, drawing a card and frowning.  “Your turn, Bruce.”

“Tony, I really think you’re going to drop it.”

“If Sigvald is injured we’ll all get in trouble,” said Thor with a hint of reproach in his voice, putting down a card.  Bruce groaned.

“Draw four  _ again _ ?  Thor, you’re killing me.”

“I will not apologize for my triumphs.”

“What do you know about kids, anyway?” said Tony to Clint.

“I have three!”  Clint’s hand flew to his mouth.  “Oops.  I forgot my family was a secret.”  His eyes widened.  “Oops!  I forgot about my secret family!”  He got up and rushed from the room.

Before anyone could respond, Clint’s prediction came true, and the bag of flour pitched forward, landing on the worn carpet with a soft thump and a puff of white powder.  Thor and Bruce winced.

The Roomba glided over, bumped gently into the bag with a second tiny puff of flour, and then turned and whirled off to another part of the room.

“Right on the head,” groaned Bruce.

“It’s _ fine _ ,” said Tony, picking up the bag and dusting it off.  “Look, barely a scratch on it.”  He propped it onto the couch beside him, trying to wipe the white residue from the bag while keeping a hold of the fan of cards in his hands.

“It’s your turn,” said Thor impatiently.

Bruce tossed down a card.  “You know, Tony,” he said, “I would have thought that you of all people would appreciate the father-child bond.”

Tony looked acutely offended.  “I do,” he said.  “Of course I do.  Obviously I do.  Because my dad and I were, you know, really close and stuff.  We spent a ton of time together.  Everyone knows that,” he said uncomfortably.

The break room door opened and Steve walked in.  “Hey, guys!”  He jumped over the edge of the couch; everyone gasped in horror as he landed on the bag of flour.

“You’re  _ sitting  _ on our  _ baby _ .” said Bruce.  Steve sprung to his feet; there was a dusty white imprint on the seat of his pants.

“She’s bleeding,” observed Thor.

“Why, Steve, how could you!” said Tony, ignoring the situation and tossing down another card.

“Oh, be silent, Anthony.  Do not burden yourself, Steve, for she has already been dropped,” explained Thor.

“You  _ dropped _ Victoria?” asked Steve incredulously.

Tony had the decency to look embarrassed.  “It was an  _ accident _ .  Clint wanted me to play with it and, yeah, I might have sort of dropped it, but it’s _ fine,  _ okay?”

“You need to take better care of the flour,” said Bruce sternly.

“Perhaps it is your lack of nurturing spirit that prevents Pepper from seeing you as an ideal mate for her,” suggested Thor lightly.  His eyes lit up as he laid down a card.  “Uno!”

“...what?” asked Tony, looking agast.

“Uno!” repeated Thor.

“She  _ does _ seem to like kids a lot,” said Bruce with a shrug, tossing down a card.  “She gets along great with Clint’s.  Oops.”

He got up and crossed the room to place a quarter in a jar labeled “Mentions of Clint’s Secret Family.”

“Yeah, I always saw her as a family person,” agreed Steve.  “She’s definitely looking for a provider, you know, someone to be a father to her kids…”

Tony looked down at the bag of flour, brow furrowing.  The top was a bit crumpled.  “I should probably patch this up,” he said after a moment.

“I have a band-aid,” offered Steve.

Tony taped the band-aid over the flour.  “You can’t really tell it lost any flour.”

“She looks okay,” agreed Steve.  

“Do you think we can take off the band-aid by Friday?”

“Er… I don’t think bags of flour actually heal, Tony,” said Bruce.  “But I don’t think one little bump on the noggin is a big deal.”

Tony stood and picked up the flour.  “You know what the problem is?  Fury didn’t give us any gear at all to take care of her!  No manual, no instructions, nothing.”

“Well, it’s a bag of flour…” began Clint.

Tony held up a hand.  “No. No, the problem is a lack of preparation.  This is going to be a piece of cake.  Is it offensive to mention cake around the flour?  Never mind.  Look, we just need some supplies, that’s all.  I’m going downtown and rectifying the situation this instant.”  He marched out of the room with the flour under his arm as Thor dropped his last card on the table.   
  


**Wednesday**

Natasha pulled her car into a narrow space in the parking garage beside Fury’s spot.  Tony was just getting out of his sunshine-yellow Corvette.  “ARC RXN” stated the license plate.  A yellow diamond on the window announced, “BABY ON BOARD.”  In permanent marker, Tony had crossed out “baby” and written in “flour.” 

“Hey, Nat!” said Tony cheerily.  Natasha didn’t reply; she was looking at the bag of flour strapped into a car seat in the passenger’s seat.  It was sagging a little and had a large orange stain on it.

“Tony, why is the flour bag red?  And why is it in a car seat?  And why is it in the front seat?”

Tony rolled his eyes at her and began counting off answers on his fingers.  “It’s red because I spilled some spaghetti sauce on it, but last time I checked, kids are  _ supposed  _ to be messy eaters.  It’s in a car seat because it happens to fit in a car seat and I don’t want it rolling around my car getting flour on everything.  And it’s in the front because.. uhh… what’s wrong with a car seat in the front?”

“Are you kidding me?” asked Natasha in disbelief.

“About what?” replied Tony casually.  He popped open the trunk and pulled out a stroller, then unstrapped the bag of flour from the car seat.  It immediately fell forward and hit the floor of the car.  “ _ Motherfu-- _ !” he began, then quickly cut himself off.

“Are… are you trying not to swear in front of the flour?” asked Natasha, her mouth twitching in a smile.

“Natasha, I take caring for Victoria _ very _ seriously and responsibly,” said Tony, putting the bag of flour into the stroller.  “Fury and Pepper are both going to be impressed by my mad parenting skills.”

“She’s upside-down,” observed Natasha.

A thin line of flour was trickling from the top of the sack.

Tony flipped her around and checked the small tear.  “Oh, no… not again,” he muttered, digging around in his pockets.  He pulled out a Dora the Explorer band-aid and placed it on the flour.

“See you in the breakroom,” said Natasha, who didn’t think she could stay much longer without laughing.

“See you!” called Tony, who was going through his car and had pulled out a large tote bag filled with supplies.  What a bag of flour could possibly need, Natasha wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

* * *

“Tony’s lost it,” she announced.

“Good,” said Steve, who was eating a bowl of cereal at the table.  

“Hey, c’mon, don’t be mean,” protested Bruce half-heartedly.

“He’s a jerk, Bruce.  We all know that.”

“He’s… a little selfish at times,” admitted Bruce.

At that moment, Tony walked into the room, pushing the flour sack in the stroller.  “Good morning, everyone,” he announced, setting his tote bag down on the table.  It knocked over Steve’s bowl of cereal.  Steve groaned; the Roomba puttered over and began navigating the mess, carefully avoiding actually sucking up any cereal.

“Why’s the flour look weird?” asked Clint.

Tony looked offended.  “It’s a birth mark, Clint.  Let’s try not to give her guff about her appearance this early in life, okay?”

“It’s spaghetti sauce,” clarified Natasha.

“May I hold Sigvald?” asked Thor.

Tony looked relieved.  “Actually if you could deal with this stupid bag of flour for like, a couple hours, that would be great.  I haven’t had a drink since yesterday.  Here, let me set up a movie for it.  If Pepper comes through, could you just mention how awesome I’m being, and how  _ naturally  _ nurturing this bag of flour is coming to me?”

He crossed the room and put a tape into the ancient VHS player.  A few moments later, T _ he Secret of Nimh 2: Timmy to the Rescue _ was playing.

Tony turned.  “Thanks for rewinding the tape, Thor.  Okay.  I have a bunch of supplies in the  bag--”

“Tony,” said Natasha.

“--and a list of instructions in case anything happens, like if it gets wet--”

“Tony!” said Bruce.

“--and I’ll have my cell phone in case--”

“TONY!” shouted Bruce and Natasha, pointing.

Tony turned just in time to discover that the stroller was rolling backwards, out the door.

Tony cried out in alarm and darted toward it, but it was too late.  The stroller had gained momentum and squeaked out into the hall.  Everyone winced as they heard it clatter down the stairwell.

A moment later, Tony returned, his suit ashy with flour, holding the paper bag.  He laid it on the table of the break room.  “Okay, that was a minor setback,” he said, flipping over the bag to reveal a large hole in the top.

“Yeah.  Yeah, that’s a pretty big tear,” said Natasha.

“Let’s just take out the tracker now and be done with it,” suggested Bruce.

Tony looked horrified.  “You want to  _ disembowel her?  _  Jesus Christ, Bruce.  You’re a monster.  It’s like I’m the only one here who really  _ cares _ about this bag of finely ground wheat.”

Bruce glared at him.  “You know, Tony…” he began angrily.

Natasha put a hand on his shoulder.  “Let’s all calm down.  It’s not that bad.  It’ll look fine once we clean it off.”  Natasha pulled out a Dust Buster and began cleaning off the bag of flour; there was a tearing sound as the hand-held vacuum sucked up some of the paper, widening the hole.

“Whoops!  Wow, what a well-made vaccuum,” observed Natasha, peeling a bit of paper out of the Dust Buster.

“That’s a Stark Industries product,” said Tony proudly.  “Also, seriously, you’re going to ruin my chances with Pepper, and Fury’s going to pull me from the AVNA mission, so if we could try to, you know, fix this…?”

“Here’s some electrical tape,” suggested Clint, pulling out a roll of lime-green tape from one of the drawers on the counter.   


Tony took the tape gratefully and patched the large hole in the bag.  Having lost about a third of its flour, covered in a dark orange stain, and sporting two bandages and the green electrical tape, the flour looked rather different than it had on Monday.

“Not too noticeable, right?” asked Tony hopefully.  “I mean… Fury’s only got one eye, after all…”

No one answered him.  The Roomba swerved around their feet, ignoring the dusty white prints Tony’s shoes had made on the carpet.   
  


**Thursday**

“Okay, Vicki.  Today is another day,” said Tony to the flour, pulling it from the car seat.  “We’ve had a rough week so far, but thanks to Swedish engineering, you are going to be safe and sound today.  No more bumps.”  

With the stroller destroyed after rolling down the stairwell and concussing two SHIELD interns, Tony had opted to buy a Bjorn.  He strapped the bag of flour into the chest carrier with a sense of smugness.

“Tony Stark?”

Tony turned.  A man was standing in the parking garage, staring at him.

“Look, if this is another lawsuit or a subpoena or something, please talk directly to my attorney,” said Tony, leaning against the car, attempting to look suave despite the Bjorn on his chest.

The man smiled.  “No.  This is a different kind of justice.  This is for my brother, who died in Sokovia.”  He raised a gun and, before Tony had time to react, shot him.

The gunshot echoed through the parking garage.  Tony fell to the ground with a yell.  A moment later, Clint was tackling the man, who was laughing maniacally, and Bruce was kneeling over Tony.

“Medic!” cried Tony.  “I need a medic!”

“Where are you hurt, Tony?” demanded Bruce, trying to feel around Tony’s chest for the bullet wound.

“Not  _ me, _ you idiot!  I’m wearing a vest!  _  Vicki! _  He got Vicki!”

Sure enough, the bag of flour had a bullet hole, and flour was trickling steadily from it.

“Oh, geez, are you serious?  Hold on, I think I have something…”

Bruce rifled around in his back pocket, pulled out a large, round sticker, and slapped it over the bullet hole.

“ _ Feel the Bern?  _  Are you serious right now, Bruce?” asked Tony incredulously, sitting up.

“Did you know one percent of the population controls more than ninety percent of the wealth?” replied Bruce.

“Damn it, Bruce, I _ am _ the one percent!”  Tony staggered to his feet, arms wrapped protectively around the Bjorn  “Do they make bullet-proof Bjorns?” he demanded.

“Why the  _ hell  _ would they make those?” demanded Bruce.

“Well, if this were an  _ actual  _ baby…” he began.

“Why are you wearing a Bjorn, and why is there a bag of sugar in your Bjorn?” asked the man with the gun, who was still being held down by Clint and had his cheek pressed against the pavement.  He looked deeply unsettled by their conversation.

“None of your beeswax, Trigger Happy,” snapped Tony.  “Bruce, follow me.  I have another idea!”

* * *

“Has anyone seen my helmet?” asked Steve, walking into the break room.  Clint gestured with his cup of coffee.  Sitting on the table, the sagging bag of flour was sitting there in Captain America’s helmet.  “Uh, why is Victoria wearing my helmet?”

“Because,” said Tony, looking over from where he was arguing with Pepper in the corner, “until I can build her-- I mean, _ it _ \-- a suit, I need it to be completely safe.”  He turned back to Pepper.  “Pepper, please, just watch the flour,” begged Tony. 

“No.  Tony, it’s a  _ bag of flour. _  My contract does not include floursitting as a job duty,” said Pepper frostily.  “If you want to leave the flour on the couch, I’m sure nothing will happen to it for a few hours, but you can’t genuinely expect me to take care of that thing?”

“Pepper, it’s not a  _ thing _ , it’s a  _ bag of flour  _ with hopes and dreams and  _ feelings _ ,” said Tony through gritted teeth.  “And last time I left it on the couch, some big dumb patriotic oaf _ sat  _ on it.”

Steve frowned but didn’t say anything.

“Just take it into the shop with you,” said Pepper.  She reached out to place a hand on Tony’s forehead, checking for a fever.  “Tony, have you been sleeping okay?  You know the bag of flour can’t actually feel anything, right?”

“I can’t just take it into the shop with me, Pepper.  The shop is dangerous, full of flour hazards and sharp things and I can’t possibly concentrate on work if Vicki is sitting there staring at me.  The shop isn’t designed for children, and I’m sure she would find it very boring, and it’s great that she wants to spend more time with me, but I have a business to run and I’m a busy man who can’t afford to be distracted right now, Tony.”

“What?”

“What?” repeated Tony.

“Back up.  You’re building a suit for the bag of flour?” demanded Natasha, who was lounging on the couch.

“Let’s face it, building suits is what I do in my downtime anyway.  If I weren’t working on a prototype for Vicki’s safety, I’d be working on my other project, the Clint Buster Armor.”

Clint raised his eyebrows, looking both confused and flattered.

“Please just watch her?” begged Tony.  “I mean,  _ it _ .”

Pepper sighed with exasperation.  “Okay, fine.  But I hope you realize how insane this is, even for you.”

“You’re the best!” replied Tony, dashing out of the room.

Pepper rolled her eyes. 

 

**Friday**

Tony entered the break room on Friday with a metal box under one arm and  _ The National Enquirer _ under the other.  Steve, Clint, and Thor were arguing over breakfast; there was virtually no food in the refrigerator except for a take-out box from Olive Garden (Natasha’s) and a bottle of expired ketchup (Tony’s), plus a stick of butter. 

“Vultures!” exclaimed Tony, throwing the rag down on the table.  On the cover was a blurry picture, accompanied by the headline,  _ ILLEGITIMATE LOVE CHILD?  TONY STARK SPOTTED AT BABIES R’ US. _

He set the metal box down next to it with a heavy, solid thunk.  Red and shiny, it looked a bit like a pillow made of steel armor, its plates overlapping elegantly, an arc reactor glowing from the center.

“You actually did it,” observed Steve.  “You built the flour a suit.  Can I have my helmet back now?”

Tony rubbed his face, looking like he’d slept poorly.  “Yeah.  Took me all night, but I did it.  Can you please watch Vicki while I take a leak?”

The three men mumbled with agreement.  Tony slouched from the room like a beaten dog, clearly exhausted, grateful for a few moments to himself.

His relief was short-lived.  He came back to the breakroom to the smell of something frying.  The miniature Iron Man suit lay on the table, discarded and open, empty.

“Where’s Vicki? asked Tony, a note of panic in his voice.

“Pancakes?” asked Thor, holding out a pan.

Tony’s eyes widened.  “...no,” he whispered.  “...no, you… you didn’t!   _ Thor!  The exercise! _ ”

“Oh.  We’re still doing that?” asked Thor, brow furrowing.

“Why didn’t anyone stop him?” demanded Tony, rounding on Steve and Clint.

Steve looked up.  “I’m sorry, Tony.  I would have if I noticed.  I was browsing this catalogue for some new company called L.L. Bean… is this a good price for khaki pants in the future?”

Clint shrugged.  “I just wanted breakfast.”

Tony shoved past Thor and picked up the stained, torn, patched, sagging bag of flour from the counter.  “She’s more than half empty!” he moaned with misery.

“Some might say she’s half-full!” said Steve brightly.

“Oh, shut up, Rogers.”

Tony turned, holding the bag delicately, and walked toward the table, intending to put it back into the suit.

But he was paying so much attention to the flour, he failed to see the Roomba in his path, and he tripped over it, dropping the bag, which immediately broke open, the remaining flour spilling all over the floor.

The Roomba whirled through the flour, sucking it up, leaving the floor squeaky clean.

Tony lay there, frozen.  For a moment, no one moved.

Then the door to the break room opened.  Natasha strode in, holding a bag of flour.

“Great job, Tony,” she said sarcastically, standing over him.  “I knew you’d end up killing her, so I took the liberty of switching her with a regular bag of flour.  Here’s Victoria.”  She held out the bag.

Tony let out a deep, shuddering sigh of relief, jumping to his feet and hugging the bag.  “Vicki!  You’re safe!  I’m so sorry, Vicki, I swear, I’m never going to let you get hurt again!”

“Uh, Tony?”

Tony looked over at Clint, and quickly regained his composure.  “I mean, uh, thank you, Agent Romanov.  I’m glad you had the foresight to know that, through absolutely no fault of my own, the flour would get compromised and would need a body double.”

“Tony… no one’s going to believe that you cared for that all week.  Look at it!  It’s pristine,” said Clint.

Tony looked down.  The flour looked like it had just been purchased at the store.  There were no scuffs, no wear or tear at all.  The creases were perfect and the stamped-on picture of wheat was bright and shiny.

“You need to convince Fury and Pepper that you  _ actually  _ tended to that bag,” said Steve gravely.

“Rough her up a bit,” encouraged Natasha.

“What?  Why me?!” protested Tony.  “I’ve been trying to  _ protect  _ this lousy thing all week!   _ You _ do it!”

Natasha held up her hands.  “ _ I’m _ not the one trying to impress Pepper and go to some porn thing in Las Vegas.  I’m just giving you some good advice.”

“Strike her!” commanded Thor

“Shake her up!” added Clint.

Tony inverted the bag a few times.

“Are you kidding me, Tony?  C’mon, shake it up!” demanded Clint.

“As if she were a scoundrel who had made eyes at your betrothed!” added Thor.

Tony shook the bag.

_ “Harder!” _

Tony shook it harder.

“Slap that flour, Tony!”

Tony set the bag of flour on the table and gave it a smack.  “Guys, this really doesn’t feel right…” he said uncertainly.

“Yeah, because you’re doing it wrong!” said Natasha.  “You barely even touched it, Tony.”

“Yeah, Tony, that’s not enough… it really needs to look convincing,” agreed Clint.

“You’re surely not as weak as this without your armor?” asked Thor.

Tony bit his lip, then, with a look of determination, hit the bag, then again, harder and harder.  Soon he was pummeling the bag of flour while the rest of the Avengers cheered him on.

The door opened, and Director Fury, accompanied by Maria Hill, walked in, holding a stack of envelopes.  

“Er… is this a bad time?” asked Maria as they all froze.  Tony was poised over the table, one fist raised, covered in a fine white powder, a worn bag in front of him.

“This isn’t what it looks like!” he cried immediately.

“It looks like you’re aggressively punching that bag of flour,” she said flatly.

“No!  I mean… yes!  But only because they made me!  Look, I would  _ never _ do this to an actual baby!  Please don’t tell Pepper.  Please send me to Las Vegas.  _  Please _ .”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Maria.

Tony stared at her.  “The… the flour.  The teambuilding exercise.  You… gave us a bag of flour?  To care for this week?  Like a baby?”

She snorted.  “What is this, high school?  We’re an international defense and security agency, Mr. Stark.  We wouldn’t waste our time on something so trivial.  Here’s your paycheck.”

Tony’s jaw dropped.  He looked up at the other Avengers.  Clint and Thor were slowly chewing pancakes, watching him; Natasha and Steve were leaning against each other, arms crossed, smirking; Bruce’s mouth was twitching with a poorly withheld smile.

He looked to Fury.  Fury was shaking with silent laughter.

“You guys are  _ assholes _ ,” hissed Tony.

He snatched his paycheck from Maria’s outstretched hand and stomped out of the room, each step creating a small poof of flour in its wake.

Everyone exchanged high-fives.  “We got him,” said Clint with delight.

“Got him so hard!” agreed Natasha.

Their celebration paused as Tony walked back into the room.

“...I’m taking Vicki,” he snapped, grabbed up the bag from the table.  He walked back out, trailing a thin stream of flour behind him.

 

\- End -


End file.
